Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 55

Yun Yongzhou hadn’t expected the sudden embrace.

His rapid breathing was magnified by the darkness, pounding like raindrops into his heart, leaving him completely unsettled. He knew Wei Huan was only borrowing his demonic power to suppress the demonic energy inside his own body—he knew that clearly. He could’ve taken this opportunity to hug him back, but he didn’t.

Because he liked Wei Huan, he wanted to give him complete respect and freedom.

The fierce clashing of demonic energy inside Wei Huan’s body gradually calmed, filled instead by warm light. His consciousness slowly returned to clarity. When he opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Yun Yongzhou’s collar—his exposed collarbone—and immediately snapped to awareness.

Why was I hugging him?

Wei Huan quickly let go of his arms and, like a chick who had hit a spring, bounced back with a smack, then awkwardly stepped back half a pace, swaying slightly, nearly losing his balance.

“Um… I think I just…” Wei Huan didn’t even dare lift his head. He didn’t know how to explain what he had done. What he did just now hadn’t been thought through—he had acted purely on instinct. “…I don’t know what happened. I just—it hurt a lot, and then…”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t let him finish. He interrupted with a cold voice, “I know.”

You don’t know.

That reflexive rebuttal startled Wei Huan himself.

He laughed, trying to mask his internal unease, and quickly changed the topic. “Good thing you were there—otherwise I might’ve died just now… Oh, right. Qing He is still over there. I’ll go check on him.” He had only taken a few steps when he suddenly felt a stinging pain in his eyes. He stopped and lowered his head, rubbing them twice with his hand.

So uncomfortable.

Forget it. I’ll deal with it after. Just as Wei Huan was about to leave, Yun Yongzhou called out to him, “Wait.”

He walked up to Wei Huan, gently took his hand away from his eyes, cupped the right side of his face, and lightly brushed his thumb across his thin eyelids.

Wei Huan wasn’t sure if it was just psychological, but he really did feel better.

“Go on.”

Wei Huan responded softly. The wall of fire at the office door extinguished. Inside, Qing He was flipping through something. He was instantly alert when he sensed someone entering and pointed a gun toward the door. Once he saw who it was, he lowered the weapon. “You okay?”

Wei Huan shook his head. “We need to get out of here, now.”

Qing He quickly gathered the documents. “What just happened out there? I thought you two weren’t coming back.”

Wei Huan looked into Qing He’s eyes. “I think their demon-puppet project… may have already succeeded.”

“What did you say?” Qing He was in disbelief. “You mean you actually saw one?”

Yun Yongzhou spoke up, “We fought one. It really is a hybrid of human and demon. Let’s find somewhere safe to talk.”

Just as Yun Yongzhou was about to activate a boundary to teleport them away, a sudden flash of blue light streaked by.

A crescent-shaped blade flew toward Yun Yongzhou’s wrist, but his reaction was faster—his light blade instantly formed and deflected the attack.

“Who’s there?” Everyone quickly went on alert. Qing He scanned the area but saw no one suspicious.

The deflected blade struck the wall—it was clear as day.

A blue blade.

Yun Yongzhou had barely taken a step when the blade dissolved into wind and vanished without a trace.

In that instant, he felt every pore on his body shudder. His first instinct was to look back at Wei Huan.

Wei Huan was clearly even more shaken—his disguise slipped before he could recover. His pupils trembled uncontrollably, his hands clenched into fists, and the muscles in his face tightened unnaturally.

This can’t be…

It has to be a coincidence.

It must be…

Suddenly, the office window was struck by a terrifying attack. Countless blue blades shot through, instantly shattering the glass. Yun Yongzhou waved his hand, forming a barrier to shield them.

But the strength of those blades was terrifying—cracks began to form in the barrier. Qing He, unaware of the full situation, stared at the fracture. “Why is it so strong?”

Wei Huan could no longer think straight. Step by step, he moved forward, heading toward the edge of the barrier. Yun Yongzhou noticed and extended a light chain from his wrist to wrap around Wei Huan’s arm. “Hold on.”

He looked down at his own bound arm, desperately trying to pull the chain off—but the more he pulled, the tighter it got. Qing He quickly noticed something was off. “What’s wrong with you? Wei Heng?”

That name—Wei Heng—jolted Wei Huan’s nearly broken mind into brief clarity.

But the next moment, he felt even more nauseated.

Eyes red, he stared at the blue flying blades still trying to pierce the barrier.

No, wind blades.

It was all so familiar it made him sick. This was originally his ability—his Nine Phoenix Wind Craft Technique.

There was the sound of wings outside the window.

Wei Huan sensed it instantly. He gathered his demonic energy, the bracelet around his wrist transforming into a sharp light cone, which pierced through the barrier and shot toward the source. The sound of wingbeats grew louder—the light cone struck the target and transformed midair into chains, tightly binding the thief.

He could hear his own voice trembling—but he couldn’t stop it.

“Yun Yongzhou, kill him.”

It was the first time Qing He had seen Wei Heng so out of control—almost bloodthirsty. He had always been the kind to hold back, but now he looked like he wanted that person dead.

He originally intended to take a good look at the hidden assassin to see who could’ve made Wei Heng react like this—but the person wore a mask and was too far away to make out their face.

Still, that silhouette…

Just as the light chains wrapped around the person, all the wind blades attacking the barrier suddenly converged into a single point and stabbed in violently.

Yun Yongzhou reacted quickly. “Watch out!”

Wind blades struck continuously at Wei Huan’s hand that was controlling the light chains. Just before Yun Yongzhou could cast a new light shield to protect him, the light chains binding the assailant vanished, instantly transforming into a shield that blocked the attack for Wei Huan. But the wind blades came too fiercely, and cracks immediately began forming on the shield.

This won’t do. Yun Yongzhou summoned a new barrier to protect Wei Huan and Qing He, then spread his wings and took off in pursuit. “Qing He, keep an eye on him.”

The assailant had been wounded by both Yun Yongzhou and Wei Huan’s light blades. Yun Yongzhou had held back—he was filled with doubt. This person’s demon energy was far stronger than the two demon puppets earlier. He was tall, and even the black wings on his back were of the Nine Phoenix clan.

If he was also a demon puppet like the others…

The possibility terrified Yun Yongzhou. No matter what, he couldn’t bring himself to strike to kill. Instead, he surrounded the attacker with the golden crow’s fire. That seemed to make the other wary.

He knew the attacker was badly hurt. Though the black clothes obscured the wounds, the scent of blood was spreading through the air. Yet strangely, this demon puppet showed no signs of trying to evade, like a machine that couldn’t feel pain. His wind blades were identical to Wei Huan’s—no, even stronger.

After a moment of struggle, Yun Yongzhou finally decided to launch an all-out assault. Hundreds of piercing light cones, sharper than any blade, were about to tear into the demon puppet’s body—

And then, he vanished.

Yun Yongzhou’s eyes darkened. That level of coordination between barrier and teleportation—it was almost instant movement.

Behind him.

The moment he turned at full speed, a narrow wind blade stabbed into his chest and pierced his heart.

Yun Yongzhou coughed up a mouthful of blood. It splattered on the blade. In the next moment, the blue blade dissolved into wind, vanishing together with the mysterious demon puppet.

“Yongzhou!”

That final thread of reason in Wei Huan’s mind snapped. A single tear, long held in his reddened eyes, fell. “Yun Yongzhou…”

Yun Yongzhou lowered his head, pressing a hand against his chest. Blood gushed from between his fingers. He adjusted his breath and flew back through the window.

Wei Huan caught him, and Qing He rushed over. “Are you okay?”

Yun Yongzhou said nothing. He silently summoned his energy and activated the spatial barrier technique. In an instant, they vanished from the perilous research facility and reappeared in a secluded location.

Qing He looked around. It seemed to be a standalone house with a lake visible through the window. Wei Huan didn’t even realize this was the same forest cabin Yun Yongzhou had brought him to before. In a panic, he helped Yun Yongzhou onto the bed in the bedroom. Watching the blood still oozing from his chest, he murmured, “Why won’t it heal…”

Yun Yongzhou’s face was pale, but he still tried to calm him. “It will… just slower.”

That man’s demon energy was too strong.

Wei Huan hung his head, pressing hard on Yun Yongzhou’s chest. Qing He sensed that something was off and said, “I’ll look for something to stop the bleeding.”

Once he left, silence settled over the room. Wei Huan’s emotions were a tangled mess. He forced himself to stay composed. When Qing He returned with a first-aid kit, Wei Huan hurried to remove Yun Yongzhou’s blood-soaked shirt and wrap the wound. Qing He, watching all this blood, found it terrifying. If this had been a human, a wound to the heart like that would already be fatal.

But even someone as powerful as Yun Yongzhou fell unconscious. His eyes were closed, his face unchanged—but Wei Huan couldn’t bear to look at it.

After tending the wound, Wei Huan sat silently, staring at his blood-stained hands.

Qing He packed up and grabbed his bag. “I’ll wait outside. Call me if you need anything.” He shut the door behind him, leaving only the unconscious Yun Yongzhou on the bed and the silent Wei Huan sitting at the bedside.

A basin of water Qing He had brought earlier sat on the nightstand. Wei Huan dipped his hands in, slowly washing away the blood.

These hands were covered in Yun Yongzhou’s blood.

It felt as if he himself had stabbed Yun Yongzhou with a wind blade. A chill ran through him. He bit down hard on his back teeth.

The surface of the water reflected his unfamiliar face. Wei Huan only felt irony.

He had nothing left.

No demon power, no identity, no body that was originally his. The name of the Nine Phoenix clan was no longer his. He had spent so long trying to accept the reality that everything had been taken from him. He thought he had come to terms with it—but the moment he saw the wind blades, everything collapsed.

His talent had been stolen, grafted onto someone else, and turned into a weapon.

His mind was in chaos. He felt like a pitiful ant—every time he cleared a bit of fog, thinking he was one step closer to the truth, fate would stomp him back into the ground with a crushing blow.

He truly thought he was close to discovering the truth about the body he now inhabited. But then, a demon puppet with the same powers as him appeared.

Overwhelming exhaustion and pain pressed down on his shoulders. Wei Huan hung his head, his eyes burning. Every time he closed them, all he could see was his own corpse being dragged away, dissected, turned into one experiment after another.

He lifted his trembling hands, hugged his arms to his chest, trying to calm down.

He had already lost control once. Yun Yongzhou must have noticed something.

He didn’t want Yun Yongzhou to find out—not now, at least. If possible, he would rather wait for the right moment, when Yun Yongzhou was in a good mood, to tell him the truth. Even if Yun Yongzhou rejected him, he would accept it.

Yun Yongzhou let out a pained groan in his unconscious state. Wei Huan looked up and saw his brows furrowed, lips trembling slightly.

He must be in a lot of pain.

Wei Huan’s tears, which he had held back for so long, suddenly spilled out. He didn’t even know why.

He wiped them away haphazardly with the back of his hand, but more and more kept falling.

He was clearly in deep pain, yet somehow, compared to seeing Yun Yongzhou in pain, his own suffering felt insignificant.

If only he could take some of that pain away—even just a little…

Suddenly, Wei Huan remembered the blood pact. He recalled how he had once lost the ability to feel pain. Yes—if it was through a blood pact, he could transfer Yun Yongzhou’s pain onto himself.

Without further thought, he began recalling the incantation he had read in the blood pact notes. His memory was not precise, but for Yun Yongzhou’s sake, he still wanted to try. As he activated his spiritual energy and silently recited the incantation, golden Golden Crow light emanated from his body. The spot between his brows turned red, as if a drop of blood had seeped through.

He held Yun Yongzhou’s hand. The center of his palm also turned red. Light surged for an instant—then vanished.

Was it over? Why didn’t he feel anything?

Wei Huan thought he had failed, but suddenly, his breath hitched. An intense pain exploded in his heart. He braced himself on the bed with one hand, struggling to stay conscious. He had known it would hurt, but he never imagined it would be this agonizing.

It wasn’t a clean stab to the heart—but a relentless, swarming torment, as though countless sharp needles were piercing him all at once, embedding deep into his flesh. Even breathing became difficult. Cold sweat broke out all over his body, his lips turned pale.

What… what is this?

Why is it like this?

So cold.

Wei Huan trembled violently, his teeth chattering. It felt like steel needles were embedded in his heart, and the broken organ threatened to tear his body apart. He tried to get up, to go outside, but every step brought with it unbearable agony.

He could feel his body temperature plummeting. It was too cold. Shivering, he reached out and gently lifted a corner of the blanket. Though he was on the verge of losing consciousness from the pain, he still moved softly, carefully crawling under the covers and pulling them over himself.

A sliver of clear thought in his mind whispered: You’re being absurd. Absurd for transferring Yun Yongzhou’s pain without his knowledge. Absurd for lying here beside him.

But even so, it was better than watching Yun Yongzhou suffer.

Wei Huan didn’t touch him, not even a little. He simply curled up on his side, facing Yun Yongzhou’s quiet profile—like a frightened, homeless creature too scared to disturb anything.

So this is how much it hurt for you.

The last rays of the setting sun faded, dissolving into the icy dark. The room slowly dimmed, and from what remained of his will, Wei Huan conjured a small light, floating above them. Its gentle glow cast a soft warmth over Yun Yongzhou’s face, offering a shred of comfort amidst unbearable pain.

Yun Yongzhou’s body was so warm—like the sun, radiating endless light and heat. Wei Huan was so cold. He wanted to move closer, wanted to hold him—but he resisted. Instead, he gently pressed his forehead to Yun Yongzhou’s arm.

No more, he told himself.

He didn’t know when the pain finally stripped away the last of his consciousness.

It was like a release. He no longer felt the torment. Like a rootless leaf, he drifted into a dark lake. He looked up at the sky, and a breeze passed—shaping a blue wind into another version of himself.

No. That was the real him.

The real him, with the face of a true Nine Phoenix, reached out a hand toward the version of him floating on the lake’s surface.

After a moment of hesitation, Wei Huan reached back. As soon as he was pulled up, the world around him turned into a battlefield of chaos and slaughter. Bullets rained into his chest like a storm. The screams mixed with the heavy stench of blood made him dizzy and nauseous.

In front of him stood a tall figure, a familiar back—those black wings striking a solemn and tragic silhouette against the blood-red sky.

The man turned. It was his father.

“Father… Father!” Wei Huan ran forward, wrapping his arms around his father’s battered body from behind.

I missed you so much.

But his tightly clinging arms were pulled apart. Stunned, Wei Huan looked up and saw his father’s face—frowning, looking at him with a confused, unfamiliar gaze.

“Who are you…?”

It struck his heart like a hammer. Wei Huan froze in place.

Who am I?

I’m your son. I’m Nine Phoenix.

“I…”

When he looked up again, his father had become a black-clad figure with a veiled face, faint blue demon marks glowing on his cheek.

Who are you?

A mocking voice responded with a question: “You tell me—who do you think I am?”

Wei Huan didn’t have time to answer. A sharp wind blade formed in the man’s hand and drove straight into Wei Huan’s chest without mercy. Wei Huan watched as the blade plunged into his body, pain silencing him completely.

“So you’re still alive?”

Yun Yongzhou’s voice.

He looked up again, and saw Yun Yongzhou’s cold, expressionless face.

Yes, he thought, I’m still alive.

“Then why did you come back?” Those amber eyes, divine and detached, held no emotion. “You’ve clearly forgotten everything.”

Wei Huan stood frozen as those words hit him.

The blood-soaked battlefield suddenly became cracked ice. The ground beneath him gave way, and he fell into a bottomless abyss of cold.

He jolted awake, gasping like a fish on the brink of death, pulled from the nightmare.

As consciousness returned to his battered body, he realized he was being held tightly in Yun Yongzhou’s arms. His nose brushed the soft skin at Yun Yongzhou’s neck. Their chests were pressed close together.

At some point, Yun Yongzhou had reached out and gently embraced him—nurturing his wounded soul with quiet warmth while Wei Huan writhed in pain.

Wei Huan pretended to still be unconscious, curled quietly in his arms.

He felt nothing but sorrow for himself.

If only I could hide in this embrace forever, free from schemes and struggle, no longer fighting futile battles against fate, letting go of the identity of Nine Phoenix. If that were possible, maybe life would feel so much lighter.

But that’s not who I am.

A voice deep inside suddenly roared to a peak, unbearably loud and chaotic.

[You can’t go back!]

[Even your powers have been stripped away. A Nine Phoenix without the wind—what is that? You’re not even as good as the lowest kind of demon!]

[Do you even know what you are anymore? Human? Demon? You’re nothing!]

Countless voices exploded in his chest, drowning him in their midst.

[No.]

He stood up, hands over his ears, then slowly let them fall. In the darkness, he faced every voice head-on.

[I know who I am.]

All the voices merged into one, unyielding in tone.

[You already died once—why won’t you accept your fate?]

That voice inside him looked up and smiled as he replied:

[Fate has never once treated me kindly.]

[Why should I believe in it?]

I only believe in myself.

The sound of the wind rose again—and this time, he knew it was real.

Lifting his head, Wei Huan saw faint wisps of blue demonic energy surrounding him, blending with the golden light of the Golden Crow and with Yun Yongzhou’s crimson aura in the air—like an aurora.

He slipped out of Yun Yongzhou’s arms and reached toward the blue glow in the sky. The moment his fingertips touched it, a familiar surge of power flooded his body.

Even if just for a moment.

Wei Huan sat up, gaze fixed on the window. The stillness of the night was broken—he clearly heard the wind brushing past the frame, drifting closer and closer.

He extended his hand and caught a strand of wind.

The blue light in the sky fell like a shooting star into his palm. Wei Huan frowned slightly and opened his hand.

There, quietly resting in his palm, was a blue forget-me-not.

The very next second, the flower transformed back into wind once again.

He had only held the wind for a moment—but that was enough. Truly, it was enough.

Wei Huan looked up at the slowly fading blue light in the air. A single tear clung stubbornly to his eye, and only when he lowered his gaze with a smile did it finally fall, like a star dropping from the sky.

The night deep into the second half grew dim. Starlight fell on a lonely, unknown pond. Su Buyu sat alone by the edge, silently watching his own reflection in the still water. The boy once trapped in this pond had met someone who belonged to the sky.

Originally, he had planned to wait for Wei Huan at Shangshan, bring him back to this familiar place, and reveal everything when the moment was right.

But the past days had been torture. Ever since Yun Yongzhou formed a blood pact with Wei Huan, all his suspicions were confirmed.

Even with a second chance at life, he was still a step too late. He had been the first to suspect, the one who believed most firmly in Wei Huan’s identity—yet still, he arrived too late.

When he finally gathered the courage to probe the truth, he realized Wei Huan didn’t want him to know. His hesitation likely stemmed from not wanting to drag Su Buyu into his burdens. If he wanted to hide it, then Su Buyu would pretend with him.

But the longer he hid it, the farther away Wei Huan seemed to drift.

Su Buyu stared at the moonlight reflected in the water. He had once sworn silently to himself that no matter what happened in the future, he would never deceive Wei Huan, would always stand by his side.

But when Wei Huan first asked him about his birthday, he lied.

He casually gave a false date, only to hear Wei Huan’s surprised reply: “Isn’t that the day I first met you? What a coincidence.”

So… he remembered.

There were no beautiful coincidences—only selfish, carefully constructed lies.

And yet, knowing Wei Huan remembered the day they met, Su Buyu still felt like the luckiest person in the world. It made all those years of pain and humiliation worth it—just to have met him.

“Happy birthday.”

Wei Huan appeared smiling, holding a gift behind his back. “Open it.”

Caught off guard, Su Buyu accepted the box with trembling hands, palms slick with sweat as he unwrapped it.

Inside, he found a single feather, dark as ink. He gently lifted it, and under the light saw a faint blue shimmer at the tip.

“This is a Nine Phoenix plume feather. I plucked it from my true form,” Wei Huan said, showing off his sharp little canine. “Keep it with you. It’ll ward off evil.”

He had been too stunned to speak then. No wonder the feather held such intense demonic power.

Seeing his hesitation, Wei Huan pouted. “What, you think it’s not good enough? Don’t look down on it! This is my strongest feather!”

“I… I can’t accept this…”

“If you say no, I’ll be mad.” Wei Huan took the feather and, somehow producing a fine string, threaded it through the plume.

He stepped forward, removed the box from Su Buyu’s frozen hands, and in a gesture like a hug, helped him wear the feather around his neck.

“There.” Wei Huan stepped back with satisfaction, clapping his hands.

Su Buyu would never forget what he said then—his expression, that tender and boyish voice:

“Buyu, no one will ever bully you again.”

The night wind stirred the water, distorting his reflection into rippling waves. Su Buyu gripped the shark pearl tightly in his palm.

It had all been a mistake from the beginning.

Wei Huan gave his compassion to everyone.

But admiration—he only gave to the strong.

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